


Coffee Spoons - A ChanBaek Oneshot/Drabble Collection

by Ink-and-stars (AriasOfSnow)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, M/M, One Shot Collection, Rating May Change, Romance, Tags and warnings to be added in each invividual fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriasOfSnow/pseuds/Ink-and-stars
Summary: Just what the title states - AriasOfSnow's little collection of ChanBaek oneshots and drabbles, all kept together for your reading pleasure!Each chapter features a different, standalone story, set in a different AU. Summary, warning and tags will be written down on the notes at the beginning on each chapter, so check before reading.





	Coffee Spoons - A ChanBaek Oneshot/Drabble Collection

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome everyone to this little project of mine!
> 
> This has been born as a way to me to show my thanks to everyone who supports me and my work! I don't know how often I'll be able to update this with new stories, but I'll do my best!
> 
> Now, about this story:
> 
> \----------
> 
> Name: And all the Birds Flocked to Him  
> Rating: T-ish?  
> Other characters: Junmyeon (minor appearance)  
> Tags: sci-fi/fantasy-ish, birds  
> Warnings: implied death (of non-EXO people), implied torture, implied experimentation on human beings, birds  
> Notes: It's cuter than it seems like, I swear. But it also can be a bit dark.  
> Summary: What the savage boy did was talking to birds and that alone, night after night after night. He summoned them and they came flying through the window of the concrete building of the prison at their military base, birds big and small, soft and sharp, harmless and dangerous. They remained with him at night, guarded him in his vigil and his sleep until the sun started breaking through the horizon, and then they left. Chanyeol should have shooed them away.
> 
> Only, he didn’t.

**Fic 01 - And all the birds flocked to him**

 

At first, they had kept the prisoners out in the snow.

It wasn’t fair, Chanyeol had thought, even though his superiors had told him that it was necessary, that they need to disarm them, count them, keep them in a place where they could be watched while they decided what to do with them.

“Don’t worry about them, they are used to the cold after all,” Junmyeon had told him, the most proper captain in his pressed winter uniform. He knew that Chanyeol was proficient in the field. He also knew, probably (and even though the boy himself hadn’t told him) that he wasn’t there because he loved the fight, but because he had something to protect. His mother’s restaurant. The streets his sister traversed to go to work. His city, his world.

“Are they?” Chanyeol had replied, voice low.

Because they looked so cold, the four of them, as they stood, with their hands tied at their back and their gazes up and steady - savages dressed in white fur and with streaks of grey war paint staining their faces, a remnant of the past in their world of ice and steel.

None of them had spoken that first night, as Chanyeol kept watch. They had refused all food and they had remained standing until all of Chanyeol’s people had retired to their tents. Only then had they lain on the floor and fell asleep, with the quiet tension of cornered animals, ready to fight, or to flee.

Only one of them remained awake: the boy who seemed closer to his age, a creature of white hair and brown eyes, with a face as a mask of snow and his sight on the night sky. He didn’t seem to pay Chanyeol any mind - he was focusing on the silver dark over his head, as if he was looking for something. And animals weren’t supposed to be there, not so close to their city anyway, but birds came anyway - small and white as snow, chirping and settling on his shoulders.

Chanyeol had never seen a real bird outside of his mother’s picture books, or any animal outside of the pet shops in town or the farms at the outskirts of the city for that matter, so he gasped. He hadn’t been that loud, because he had been taught how to be quiet, but the other guards were far enough and the camp was silent, and so his breath echoed, sharp like a twig snapping. The birds froze on the boy’s shoulders. The boy himself turned his head to look at him, lips pressed in a thin, white line. Dry war paint was smeared over his cheekbones, but the pattern looked different, somehow, from the thick, straight lines on his companion’s faces.

He was a single man. A savage boy, tied and disarmed, staring at a soldier in the eye, and still Chanyeol felt that he was the one in disadvantage.

“Go to sleep,” Chanyeol told him, because he was the guard, and he was in charge, and he was already seventeen and supposed to say something. He didn’t know if that boy understood him - savages had their own tongue, low and raw and slightly scary - but he had to maintain his authority, he supposed.

The boy tilted his head like a bird. Whispered something soothing to his companions. Then he looked at Chanyeol and smiled.

And his heart skipped a beat.

\--

That person was dangerous, and Chanyeol knew, and he should have spoken to his superiors about him and the birds.

His superiors had taken the other savages away, to be questioned by the War Council, maybe, or to be sold, but they kept that boy, and only him. “He’s some sort of leader to his people,” Junmyeon told Chanyeol. “A warlock, they say. He uses pagan knowledge, forbidden blood arts. We have been ordered to bring him with us to the capital.”

And Chanyeol had been taught about blood arts at the Academy, he’d seen the explosions and watched his own comrades fell at the battlefield, and he should have told Junmyeon, yes, but doing so made him feel like he was ratting the boy out.

What the savage boy did was talking to birds and that alone, night after night after night. He summoned them and they came flying through the window of the concrete building of the prison at their military base, birds big and small, soft and sharp, harmless and dangerous. They remained with him at night, guarded him in his vigil and his sleep until the sun started breaking through the horizon, and then they left. Chanyeol should have shooed them away.

Only, he didn’t.

He didn’t speak about that to anyone, either.

He didn’t follow his orders.

“He’s calm,” he told Junmyeon when he asked how the boy behaved at night.

“He’s always calmer around you.”

But it wasn’t him, Chanyeol would have wanted to say. It was the birds. The boy struggled during the day, where the scientist in their squadron came for him. He was trained for combat and he fought like a wild beast, pushing and punching and biting until he was dragged away anyway. They were taking ‘samples’ of him, Junmyeon had told Chanyeol with a sigh, but the boy looked both too nervous and too exhausted when he returned. He, at least, didn’t try to kill Chanyeol when he stepped into his cell to bring him dinner, but that probably was because he was keeping quiet about the birds.

He was doing something wrong. He had to be doing something wrong, but the birds seemed to warm the boy up, flocking around him, covering him in a blanket of feathers when the cold of the night made his fingers shake and his teeth clatter. The white furs he had been captured in had been taken away they first time they had come for him after all, and the war paint on his face had been washed. Like that, he looked as young as Chanyeol was - and they stood in front of each other, two people that hadn’t even been born when the conflict between the metropolis and the savages in the forest had started.

It took a while for Chanyeol to talk to him, day after day of thinking about an excuse that would appease his superiors if they found out and were angry. In the end, he found none, so he just slipped his fingers between the cell bars, his own blanket tightly held between his fingers.

“Hey,” he said. The boy looked up, brown eyes unreadable, as the birds on his shoulders turned towards him, all at once. The boy was immobile like a doll, harmless on purpose, but Chanyeol wasn’t sure about how much harm his companions could cause. He flinched when one of them fluttered its wings and flew towards him, and let go of the blanket when it came near, drawing his hand towards his chest with a gasp. The bird landed on the fallen blanket, looking almost offended (was that possible?) and Chanyeol was already groaning in embarrassment when he heard the boy laugh.

It was a muffled giggle, a quiet  _ hehehe _ sound that the boy tried to hide by covering his mouth with one hand. And Chanyeol felt himself go back at the field the night the kid and his men had been captured, when that boy had smiled at him and Chanyeol’s heart had skipped a beat. The only difference was that he could feel his pulse now, hammering against his ribs like an offbeat drum.

“Eh, don’t laugh!” he said. “I had never seen one of those in my life before you came here!”

The boy snorted, but he also tilted his head in attention.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Chanyeol said, even though savages weren’t supposed to. The language he’d been taught since birth has been carefully perfected across the years, and it was blatantly different than the combination of hisses and grunts that the people of the forest spoke. And of course the boy just kept observing him in silence. “Can I at least know your name?” The boy blinked. “Your name. The way you’re called. You.” Chanyeol pointed at him, then shook his head and pressed his index finger against his own sternum. “Me, I’m Park Chanyeol. Chanyeol. Chan Yeol. Um…”

If he had expected the boy to repeat his name, or to mention his own, he confirmed himself mistaken when the young savage’s expression went from amusement from a careful neutrality. Chanyeol felt his heart drop.

“Ah, wait. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he added, slipping his hand in between the bars again to point at the worn grey blanket on the floor. “But anyway you can take that. I mean, it’s for you, you seem so cold.”

The boy stood up, the birds flying around him like a humming grey cloud. He walked towards the blanked and knelt before it, with soundless steps and a wrinkled frown. Chanyeol thought he was going to grab the piece of fabric, but it was his hand he went for, in a movement too fast for Chanyeol to withdraw it.

“Wha--” his first impulse was to free himself. The boy was a prisoner, Chanyeol was a soldier, and to be held by the enemy was reckless on his side. That person was said to be a warlock of some kind, he could overcome him, perhaps, if Chanyeol just gave him the advantage. And the boy was strong, that was for sure, much more than he looked like, with a firm grip and the gaze of a war veteran, but he didn’t try to attack him. He just held him there, by the wrist, until Chanyeol forced his own breath to slow down. Only then did one of the birds - the same that had walked all over his blanket before - land on his hand and start to ruffle his feathers.

The creature was big, and black, and heavy, with shiny dark eyes, and he cawed when Chanyeol stared at it in shock.  _ What do these birds eat?  _ he wondered, trying to keep still and not to scare him. The savage boy was observing him, his head tilted in something akin to wonder, and Chanyeol did want for the kid to look at him, but he wasn’t sure about how worthwhile it would be, to let his bird peck his ear off in return.

The creature seemed uninterested in human flesh, however, and his… owner? Friend? Was smiling at him again.

“So he isn’t as murderous as he looks like,” commented Chanyeol, trying to make his words sound light.

The boy shrugged, still smiling, and finally released him. The position he was in was starting to make his arm hurt, and the big black bird was still observing him like he was something very curious instead a menace or food, so he brought his arm back, closer to his chest, until the creature was centimetres away from his own body.

It cowed again. Chanyeol gasped, but he didn’t let go.

It truly was a magnificent creature.

\--

From that day on, the boy accepted Chanyeol’s blanket every night, and gave it back when his birds left, by dawn. At first, Chanyeol slipped it between the bars like it was a secret for both of them to keep; then, he brought it in when he walked into his cell to leave his dinner. More days had passed and he realized that the boy looked more and more exhausted, with heavy dark circles under his eyes and areas of purplish skin under his thin hospital gown. He always tried to eat, consuming until the last bit of the food he was given with a fierce determination, but sometimes he looked too tired to finish, or to even start, and that was why Chanyeol started staying with him sometimes. He helped him eat, he maneuvered them both until they were sitting against the cell wall, shoulder against shoulder, the boy’s head in the crook of his neck, and he whispered old stories to him, the ones that his mother used to read to him and his sister when they were little, years before both of them were requested by their city to fight. Chanyeol didn’t know if the boy could understand him, but the sound of his voice seemed to calm the young man down.

Birds came to him now, spent the night on his shoulders and his lap. They were strange creatures, with soft feathers, warm bodies, sharp beaks and fast beating hearts.

He was starting to wonder why none of them remained in the place he had been born in.

\--

“He’s showing no sign of these so-called powers. Are you sure he has any to begin with?”

“He was dressed like one of their shamans.”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s looks the same age than half of our recruits. And they are trained to kill. Savages die young; he probably started his training in the dark arts before he could barely speak.”

Like every single one of the younger soldiers at camp, Chanyeol had a schedule to follow at their camp. Train. Patrol. Guard. Assist your superiors. Take care of the basic chores - do laundry, and wash dishes, and clean. He was on duty at the lab zone when he heard those two men he barely knew talking, and he broke yet another rule to stay and listen. The two men were talking inside a tent, they wouldn’t be able to see him linger if he remained outside, and if they did… well, he had a reason to be there after all.

“Why isn’t the subject showing any signs of power when we test him?”

“Perhaps he’s not receiving the adequate amount of stimulation.”

“Or perhaps he’s only savage bait. Can’t we be sure he’s not, and that his people are not laughing at us now.”

“The readings show strength in him. That’s why he’s being kept.”

“Yes, and he’s showing no traces of being able to use it. That’s the reason he hasn’t been taken back to the city yet. We can’t spend our resources on useless tools.”

“So what do you suggest, then? He won’t last much longer at this rate.”

There was a long second of silence, and then the first voice spoke.

“We keep it on, until he either shows a reaction or proves himself disposable. And then we move forward.”

Chanyeol took a step backwards. He was carrying sheets for laundry, the white ones that were used in the labs. And he probably gasped, or mistepped, or made some noise, because the two men stopped talking and one of them asked out. “Someone there?”

They would come out, and they would see him, and Chanyeol was young and scared and wanted to run away, but he forced every muscle into a steady pace and willed his breath into a rhythm. He pressed the sheets against his chest and walked away, keeping his hands hidden so no one would see his fingers were clasping the fabric. He had a reason to be there. He had been ordered to be there.

He wasn’t called out again. Luckily, he wasn’t stopped.

He thought about that all day. He thought about that when the sun set and he was sitting close to the savage boy, who had finished eating but looked a bit too tired and was leaning against him a bit too much. There were round, purple marks at the back of his neck, over his spine, like someone had attached suckers there. He wondered what they were doing to him; how long the boy would last before his superiors considered he had  _ proven himself disposable. _

“What’s that power you’re supposed to have?” he muttered.

The boy flinched, looking up at him, eyes wide. The big, black bird on Chanyeol’s shoulder flapped its wings and cawed.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Chanyeol rushed to say. “I don’t care about you having powers or not. I think. It’s only… They’re killing you for it.”

The young man sighed and leaned onto his shoulder again. Every bird in the room had turned towards Chanyeol, eyes on his face, round and hard like black ice, but they relaxed as soon as the boy smiled.

He had a really pretty smile. The kind that felt so warm, even in the dead of a winter night. And even though, he looked so sad. It was maybe improper for Chanyeol to do so, but his fingers ghosted over the boy’s back, closed around his waist, over the white fabric of the dirty hospital gown they’d given him. The young man let out a gasp, but he went all soft under the contact before Chanyeol could even think of releasing him. He was so thin, all skin and bones, even more than Chanyeol himself. And the boy just wished…

“I don’t want them to kill you,” he whispered. He felt heartbroken. He wanted to go back home. He’d seen so much since he had been sent out, and he had been told he would be happy, serving his country like this against people like that boy, that he would be proud. “I really don’t want to.”

The big, black bird paced on Chanyeol’s shoulder when the savage man scoffed.

“Like I would let them,” he said.

Chanyeol almost hit his head again against the concrete wall.  _ “What,”  _ he murmured. He felt like choking. Or like bursting. He didn’t exactly know how to feel or how to react, so he just broke apart from him and jumped back, pointing at him like a dumb, startled child. “You talk.”

The boy’s reply was to laugh, heartful and throaty and sincere. He grabbed Chanyeol’s stretched hand and, with the slowness of someone dealing with scared animal, interlocked his fingers with his. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asked. He had a thick accent, that made his words sound like the hiss of the wind between the trees. Back at the time when Chanyeol had left the metropolis where he had been born, when he had walked the forests for the first time, the boy had been scared of that sound. He was entirely fascinated now.

“Um, no. Of course I didn’t. I just thought you didn’t want to speak to anyone or--”

“You don’t have to elaborate. I was just teasing you.”

“Ah,” said Chanyeol. There had been a lot of big black birds coming, lately, and they were all staring at him like they were all judging him. He wanted to ask what had changed between them. He really wanted to know--

“You’re Park Chanyeol, right?” he asked. He bent his head forward, but he stared at him, keeping his eyes on his as he grazed the back of his hand with his lips. He had the grace of one of the princes in his mother’s fairytale stories, the intelligent gaze of one of the birds that always followed him along. Chanyeol choked on cold air, his cheeks burning. “I’m Baekhyun. Pleased to share this prison with you.”

\--

“We follow cruel gods, both my people and yours,” Baekhyun had told him.

“Our government banned all religion,” Chanyeol had tried to protest in return. “Centuries ago, they did.”

“Your deities are there, and they’re vicious. And you’re heeding their desire for destruction, even if you claim to have stopped to serve. Your idol you pray to just holds a different shape.”

Chanyeol failed to understand, but he wasn’t blind. There were other things he got, clear as day.

“They’re growing tired. They’ll kill you.” If there was a god Baekhyun was trusting himself to, they were showing as little mercy as the superiors in Chanyeol’s squadron.

“Perhaps. But who will save me, I wonder?”

There was still half a year left until Chanyeol’s eighteenth birthday. And it was pretty obvious that Baekhyun was the wiser one, but it was him who knew how to deactivate the camera network, the one who had been given the key to the other boy’s cell.

“I will.”

“Why would you?” wondered Baekhyun. “Why risk that much for me?”

“They’re being cruel to you.” Even though they were Chanyeol’s people. “They’re hurting you.”

“As they will hurt you as well, if you have something to do with me running away. People shape themselves after the gods they follow.”

“I know I’ll get in trouble,” whispered Chanyeol.

“Is it so,” Baekhyun was leaning against his shoulder again. He had looked less weak lately, but Chanyeol wasn’t sure of that being good news. His black birds were everywhere, but the boy wasn’t sure they could protect him. “Ah, but then you muy want something, don’t you? From me.”

“No, I--” Chanyeol started to say, then kept quiet. He tried to picture things he actually wanted and his mother came to mind, reading him old stories, telling him not to be afraid, because the war was taking place outside of the city and savages wouldn’t come and take him on that side of the wall. He thought about Baekhyun too, the boy his squadron had captured in the snow, the savage warlock, the tamer of birds who smiled and talked only to him, and who whispered stories of labyrinthic forests and gods beautiful and cruel. He had kissed his hand once, interlocking their fingers. Chanyeol got the fleeting thought, coming uninvited into his head: the idea that, perhaps, he could actually ask for a real kiss that time. “Take me with you when you leave?” he said instead.

That was too much to ask, it had to be, but Baekhyun laughed and buried his head in his shoulder. “Okay,” he said. “I was planning on running away anyway.”

\--

And so Chanyeol sold himself for a boy with the eyes of a bird and the vague promise of escaping. 

He learned the routes by day, checked the perimeters, the number of guards, the security centers. He went on with his chores, unnoticed, but he saw, and listened, and memorized. He let Baekhyun at the care of his birds at night, while he walked the camp at night. He was, at once, extremely nervous and strangely calm.

When the night came, he was ready. Baekhyun was too, when he walked into his cell. He was standing close to the barred window, bidding goodbye to the last of his bird companions - the biggest among the black ones - and only looked away when Chanyeol called him to give him his white fur cloak and matching boots back.

“I found this on the prisoners’ quarters,” he told him. “I thought you would want to have it back, for the cold.”

There was light in the boy’s eyes as he grabbed it. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Chanyeol was only a boy with a gun, but he held it tightly as they rushed out of the building, silent as a moonlight shadow. He kept it ready as they ran across the camp, even if it was - felt - strangely empty.

He aimed it at the soldiers, his former squad mates, when they came at them out of nowhere. He was willing to shoot even though they were too many and they had them surrounded, even as dread setted in his bones, threatening to hold him in place.

“What…?” Chanyeol started to say. For some reason, he looked for the friendlier face of Junmyeon. He didn’t find him among the crowd. Perhaps he was sleeping. Perhaps he had been sent back to the capital to report and wasn’t there to witness one of his youngest recruits being trapped.

He recognized the voice of the man who stepped forward, however. The one not wearing a uniform, but a lab coat. “So here it is,” he stated. “The last of our tests.”

Chanyeol could have shot him. Chanyeol should have shot him. “You bastard--”

Then Baekhyun’s hand was on his shoulder. “As expected,” he said. His voice was calm, like the cold current of a forest river. “You would never be wise enough to let me go, huh?”

“Ah!” The man clapped his hands. “But it speaks!”

“What do you want?” growled Chanyeol.

“You heard me, didn’t you, Park? When I sent you to pick up my dirty laundry at the lab area.” The man sounded almost bored. “The readings on this creature showed a certain hidden strength, but there was no way to bring it out. We have the theory that it would, mayhaps, come out, if the subject received the adequate… stimulation. That’s where your presence comes in.”

Chanyeol had been taught to shoot, he had done it before, but even if he thought he could do it, he wasn’t ready to aim for the men and women he had shared their lunch and barracks and free time with. That was what they used to grab him, to take his gun from his hands and twist his arms painfully against his back.

“No way in hell you’re using me for something like this!” Chanyeol started. He was cut off when someone punched him in the stomach, hard, and made him bend forward, gasping for mouthfuls of frozen air. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t focus. He was so angry, and so scared, and he needed--

“That’s what you’re going to do to get to me?” he heard Baekhyun ask. He sounded sad. “Even though you already saw what I could do though your mechanic eyes? They are everywhere, and you were behind each one of them, spying me. My children knew. They could see it, when it came to watch over me. We showed you, didn’t we?”

Chanyeol blinked. He was trying to focus on Baekhyun, but all he could see was a blurred shape, white over the white of the snow.

“What are you saying?” he whispered, voice shaking.

“They weren’t letting you take care of me out of ignorance or compassion. They were doing it because they wanted me to trust you.”

Chanyeol felt the coldness digging in, going beneath his skin and into his bones, like his blood itself was made of ice shard. It couldn’t be. That couldn’t be. “You knew?” he asked.

“One of us had to,” said Baekhyun, and then he turned towards the guy in the lab coat. “You want to know, don’t you? I’ll show you, then. This is what I can do.” He raised his arm and held him still. A black shadow cawed, and sank its talons on the fur of his cloak. By the time a second one had come to land on his shoulder, all the guns were pointed at him already. “Don’t hurt them. You don’t want to hurt the things I love. Am I not cooperating?”

“Will you come with me?”

“Yes.”

“And do what I say?”

“ _ No!” _ Chanyeol screamed. His arm got twisted, harder, and he yelped, but he still tried to move, and to free himself, even if that meant he was going to get his bones broken. They couldn’t get Baekhyun. They couldn’t take him to the capital - the city at the other side of the wall had kept Chanyeol safe, but it would mean death to a man like him, and he would die alone, in a place where his birds wouldn’t be able to reach him.

“Yes, I would. If you let this boy live, that is.”

The man in the lab coat smiled. “Of course we will,” he said, but Chanyeol knew they were lying.

“Can I talk to him, before you take me away?”

“As you wish, but make it quick.”

Chanyeol wasn’t released when Baekhyun came to stand before him, one black bird on each shoulder. With him bent forward like this, they were almost at the same height level.

“Hey,” Baekhyun told him. He still sounded so, so sad. 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol breathed out. The boy was looking at him, and he already felt himself memorizing him, like his brain had decided for himself that that was the last time he was seeing him, ever. And he was sorry, and he was trying to free himself but he couldn’t. And it was wrong. Wrong, because Baekhyun shouldn’t be hurt. Wrong, because they were supposed to escape together. And wrong because they were going to die and Chanyeol hadn’t even kissed him.

“So that’s what you’re worried about?” Baekhyun asked, chuckling, and only then Chanyeol realized that he had been talking out loud, and that he had started crying.

“Wait, no, I--”

Baekhyun didn’t cry. Baekhyun was so calm and he still smiled, but he looked so heartbroken. “You’re kind,” he said. “But I told you. People shape themselves after cruel gods.”

He was the one to kiss him after, before Chanyeol could even reply. It all was short, and warm, and it tasted of salt and melted ice. It lasted for a second, two, and then it was over. Baekhyun had started it and he was the one who broke it. He had little constellations of snow on his lashes, the kind that fell like broken stars when he blinked.

“I’ll spare only you,” he whispered against his lips. “I’m sorry you’ll have to see this.”

_ Eh?  _ Chanyeol looked down just in time to see the warmth disappear from Baekhyun’s eyes. The boy reached behind him to pull the hood of his cloak over his head, and the last thing Chanyeol saw when he turned around was the thin, white line of his mouth. “Wait--” he started.

“Are you ready?” the man in the lab coat asked.

Chanyeol could hear it in Baekhyun’s voice, a smile as sharp as shattered ice. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He took his hand to his lips and whistled, a long, eerie sound.

And the black birds, a whole murder of crows, fell over them.

**Author's Note:**

> This one... I wanted to write to thank my coffee crew. And I know most of you mentioned you didn't want me to do anything, but I really wanted to so this is a 5K little fic to show you my appreciation!
> 
> I still have one pending drabble I have to finish and upload, so I hope to be back with a new chapter somewhere this month, after I have uploaded Codename: M.O.N.S.T.E.R? :< It'll be something shorter, though.
> 
> Meanwhile, if you want to talk to me, I'm mainly on twitter: http://twitter.com/babyeoI  
> You can also ask me stuff on CuriousCat: https://curiouscat.me/babyeol  
> Or check my Tumblr: https://baby-yeol.tumblr.com/
> 
> Anyway, comments are love, comments are life, so please let me know what you think of this story!
> 
> Bye-bye then, Happy belated New Year 2018, and stay warm!


End file.
